The Mountain Spirit

There was a woodcutter named Wang Er, who dwelt beside the Green Creek and went daily into the hills to hew firewood. The mountain was deep with mist; where the paths wound and turned, strange sounds would now and then rise from the thickets—like a man's laughter, but not kindly. One evening he tarried late, bearing his load home. Passing beneath an old camphor, he spied a creature crouched among the boughs, furred all over, its face like a pared gourd, eyes glittering like torches. Wang Er's legs gave way and his faggot fell. The creature looked down and suddenly spoke in human tongue: "Thy burden is heavy; let me carry it for thee." So saying, with long arms it seized the wood and strode off like the wind. Wang Er followed at its heels; at his door the creature set down the wood and departed without another word. Thenceforth, whenever dusk fell, the creature would come to his aid. At first Wang Er feared it; in time he grew easy, and would leave a pot of wine and a few cakes beneath the camphor in thanks. The creature received them without demur, asking nothing more. At year's end a great snow came. Wang Er lay sick abed and ate nothing for three days. At midnight he heard a tapping at the window. He opened it: the creature stood in the snow, holding a withered branch bound with a red cord, from whose end hung a small pouch enclosing mountain ginseng. It laid the pouch on the sill, pointed to the snow, and faded into the storm. Wang Er took the ginseng and was suddenly well. At dawn he went to the camphor; the wine and cakes were still there, but the creature was gone. Afterward, whenever the snow fell deep, fresh claw-marks would be found newly pressed beneath the tree, as if it came to look and would not enter. The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: The mountain spirit is neither ghost nor demon, nor yet beast. Its commerce with men is plain and lasting—bearing the manner of the ancient gentleman. Men of the world make friends at dawn and part by dusk, and cannot match this hairy kind in faithfulness. If so, that creatures too should have understanding—is it given to man alone?